As the title suggests, I’ve been on a detective fiction kick lately. One of my all time favourite mystery novelists is P.D. James, so I’ve been supplementing my home library with those Adam Dalgliesh mysteries I didn’t already have (they are easy to thrift), and re-reading them in the process. The most recent were Devices and Desires, A Taste for Death, and Shroud for a Nightingale. I liked the last one the best of the three; it’s one of James’ older novels and its setting (a nursing school) and plot reminded me of latter day Agatha Christie. What I love about James mysteries is how she delves into the psychology of each character; her books are a mix of police procedural and cozy English mystery featuring a small (but not too small) cast of suspects. The writing is always superb. Adam Dalgliesh is perhaps my favourite fictional police detective, and the supporting recurring characters (including a female detective) are also well drawn.

Because I love P.D. James so much, I got suckered into buying a collection of her short stories, supposedly never before published (The Mistletoe Murders). Well, 3 of the 4 were not; one, I definitely read before. I should have known from the description that the volume would be slim, but I was still disappointed by just how little there was to read, considering the $25 price (for the hardcover). The stories themselves were good, but I definitely don’t recommend buying the book. Thrift a few Dalgliesh novels instead.

I also tried a new-to-me mystery author, Tana French. Her books are buzzy enough, but since I rarely pay attention to new releases, I’d never come across them before. I read In the Woods (the first in her Dublin series of police mysteries) and Broken Harbour (the fourth book in the series). I liked the latter much better, although both were enjoyable. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you need to read the entire series in order; I was able to read Broken Harbour without feeling like I missed anything of substance from not having read Books 2 and 3. With that said, I enjoyed these less than the P.D. James novels. Largely, it comes down to the “flavour” of the mysteries, if you will. Both of French’s books had a very, very small pool of potential suspects, which made them less about  “whodunit” and more about “whydunit”. I prefer more emphasis on the former; James strikes a better balance, in my opinion, although her stories are now obviously more dated (she died in 2005, I think).

My other complaint about French’s books was that some of the critical characters’ psychology struck me as a bit implausible, or perhaps not sufficiently well set up. As far as In the Woods was concerned, the psycho villain was immediately obvious and rather overdone. The fact that one of the central mysteries in the story was not resolved at the end of the book also bugged me, although not as much as some people (according to Goodreads). In Broken Harbour, the “bad guy” was less obvious and the psychology more interesting, but there were still a lot of things I found really implausible. None were bad enough to make me stop reading, mind you. I devoured both books very, very quickly. Let’s just say that I was less than fully satisfied at the end. Would still recommend, but would suggest borrowing them from the library.

Which brings me to a good point. I have a lot of mysteries in my home library, and some of you may wonder why. After all, once you’ve discovered the plot twist at the end of the story, isn’t all the fun gone? Not necessarily. I re-read my favourite mystery novels (Agatha Christie, Ngaio Marsh, PD James, Colin Dexter, etc.) every few years, and always enjoy them. The plots tend to be familiar after a while, but with a sufficiently interesting cast of characters, I tend to forget precisely the details of the ending so there is still a thrill to be had. Robert Galbraith is a good example of a contemporary mystery writer whose books I will happily re-read at some point. (Not yet; not enough time has passed since I read them the first time.) Tana French, on the other hand … probably not. On a re-read, the whodunit would be too obvious, I think.

And with that, let’s move on to some interesting articles. Did you know that people used to wake up in the middle of the night before going back to bed again? This article on first and second sleep lays it all out in fascinating detail. I can’t imagine paying social visits at midnight as a matter of course, but then again I also can’t imagine having to go to bed at 5PM or whatever.

The Fashion Law wrapped up its series on the Anti-Marketing laws of luxury with part 4.

This post on dressing for your face — yes, you read that right — was truly eye-opening. I was very skeptical at first, but the accompanying photos kinda sold me on the author’s basic premise: every face has a type (Classic, Romantic, Gamine, etc.) and the person looks best when their clothes match that style (as opposed to, say, their body type). I recognized some of that struggle in myself; various styles look fine on my body (hourglass/slight pear) but I probably look and feel best in things that match my face type (Dramatic Classic, I think). Anyway, I’ve been reading up on the whole face/body type thing (and seasonal colour analysis) and thinking about my style from that perspective. If you’re familiar with these concepts, I would love to hear from you.

I’ve been slowly making my way through the lengthy biography of the Romanovs by Simon Sebag Montefiore, and to be honest, it’s been a bit of a slog. A part of my family comes from Russia, so I feel somewhat traitorous in admitting that; sorry, mom! It’s not entirely the author’s fault, and the book itself moves at a decent pace whilst still being quite exhaustive. The problem is that there are SO MANY personages to keep straight, and the names are only occasionally helpful. Ultimately, I think the book’s biggest problem is its overly-ambitious scope; a history of the Romanovs could comfortably fit a half dozen books, and that’s if you lump together all the lesser known tsars. The history itself is fascinating and well worth exploring. From my library, I would recommend From Splendour to Revolution: The Romanov Women 1847-1928 (Julia P. Gelardi); The Romanov Sisters and The Last Days of the Romanovs (both by Helen Rappaport); and Sunlight at Midnight: St. Petersburg and the Rise of Modern Russia (W. Bruce Lincoln) for anyone interested in more Russian imperial history. As always, I welcome your suggestions in turn.

Since this has also become the informal what’s-happening-this-week-on-Victoria post … let’s tackle what happened this week on Victoria. Most importantly, the newlyweds started figuring out the whole “teamwork” thing. Victoria successfully plotted without the benefit of Lord M (missing but not forgotten … by me). Albert gave a speech. (I felt his pain; I hated public speaking for most of my life. And “barbarous” IS a hard word to pronounce.) Ernest bid adieu to his (married) lady friend, and England. I hope we see him again; the actor looks like Matt Saracen’s lost (naughty) twin, so I’ve developed a huge soft spot for him. But, spoilers: Wikipedia tells me not to expect his little romantic subplot to go anywhere. Some stuff happened with the Palace staff, and for once I wasn’t completely bored by it. (I’m still not going to recap it all, though. I smell “tragic end” all over that maid/chef storyline.)

A couple of history nerd comments. One, I liked the subtle nod to Albert’s priggishness, when he told his brother to back off the married duchess. Albert was the original Victorian, and actually had a large influence on the queen in that respect. Two, I liked that the show acknowledged that Victoria had a lot of reservations about babies. (The having of them, not the making, hah.) I hope they continue to portray her “curmudgeonly” side. As a person who is also not fond of pregnancy and babies, I feel a certain kinship with Vicky.

Lastly, I just want to say that I find Albert’s character fascinating. One thing to remember is that he was very, very young when he married Victoria. His position was difficult; in a firmly patriarchal society, brought up with certain ideals of what being a man meant, he ended up being the ornamental spouse. But he wasn’t a male bimbo; actually, he was kind of a nerd — earnest and hard-working, and legitimately interested in social causes. (Although I found the whole support-for-anti-slavery plotline a bit heavy handed.) I think his portrayal on the show is quite good in showing all these different angles. Sometimes, Alberta exasperates me, but other times, I find him completely sympathetic. As a feminist, I am really intrigued by all the nuances in Victoria & Albert’s relationship.

What I’m trying to say is … I don’t just watch the show for the eye candy. Honest.

On to other things I read on the internet. My inner voyeur loved this post from Racked, offering a glimpse into different people’s closets. This kind of thing needs to be a show. I would be hooked.

If you’ve swooned over Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy (or perhaps Matthew Macfadyen is more your speed), then you might want to skip this next article. Apparently, the real Mr. Darcy was a pointy-chinned elf. I don’t know, you guys. I’m not really seeing Legolas; if I squint, maybe a young Alan Rickman?

[By the way, please admire my restraint in not using this as an opportunity to rehash the who-is-the-hottest-Austen-hero discussion. Or the let’s-fantasy-recast-every-Austen-novel-again exercise. You’re welcome.]

The comments on the Darcy discussion reminded me of one of my fave Tumblrs, My Daguerreotype Boyfriend. If you’re not already familiar with it, take a few minutes (or hours) to peruse its collection of attractive gentlemen (or rascals) from bygone eras. I love looking at old photographs, and if I wasn’t already half way to being a hoarder, I would definitely start a collection. Perusing the site did remind me that I do have one, albeit it much more recent, photo of a historical hottie.

I don’t know anything about this handsome fellow except that he was my grandma’s first beau.

Over the last couple of weeks, all my Amazon book orders have been coming in, and my “to read” stack is reaching new heights. Book mail is the best mail (save perhaps for shoe mail, and we all know how I feel about that). I had a tough time deciding which of the many new, delicious reads to pick first, but that’s definitely the kind of problem I like to have — no complaints. I ended up going the historical route again, this time with a non-fiction biography of Catherine de’ Medici and her daughter, Marguerite de Valois (Rival Queens by Nancy Goldstone). The book is well written, and just the right mix of scholarship and (historical) gossip. The Valois were France’s answer to the Tudors, and matched them for familial drama, religious strife, and sexual and political intrigue step for step. Catherine was a contemporary of Elizabeth I’s, in fact; it was her youngest son, Francois, who was Elizabeth’s (much younger) French suitor. The book does a good job of exploring the personalities of each queen in an even-handed manner; both are characters that have been much maligned over the centuries, particularly by male historians (no surprise).

For anyone interested in a fictional take on the Valois women, I would recommend Jean Plaidy’s trilogy about Catherine de’ Medici (The Italian Woman/Madame Serpent/Queen Jezebel) and Alexander Dumas’ La Reine Margot. Both provide sympathetic portrayals of their (flawed) protagonists, although in the latter case, Marguerite’s political acumen and intelligence is ignored in favour of turning her into a somewhat prototypical tragic princess. And for anyone looking for more biographies of royal women, I would also recommend Nancy Goldstone’s Four Queens (which tackles the 13th century story of the four sisters who married, respectively, the Kings of France, England, Sicily, and Germany) and The Lady Queen: The Notorious Reign of Joanna I, Queen of Naples, Jerusalem, and Sicily (which involves a trial in front of the Pope, to give you a sense of the notoriety involved). And stay tuned to this channel … there is a biography of Queen Victoria in my reading queue.

Speaking of, what else, but Victoria, I have to admit that I was underwhelmed with last episode’s royal wedding sequence. I continue to have complicated feelings about Albert, which are not helped by the fact that Lord M is bowing out of the show, seemingly to pine away, all alone, forever. I volunteer as tribute to keep him company in his political retirement, but in the meantime … more V&A canoodling, less domestic squabbling, please. (Sigh, I know that’s unlikely. The Baroness Lehzen/Albert showdown is still coming, for one.)

Also, I had an epiphany this week:

My hair? All Albert. Sorry, Lord M.

Onwards. Articles of note … well, it’s slim pickings this week. I’ve been doing a lot of book reading lately, and consequently I haven’t spent as much time as before browsing online. This article from The Fashion Law on the return of the New Look (and what it means) was a brief but intriguing glimpse into a topic I’ve always found fascinating — the sociology of fashion. It’s given me a hankering for a good fashion history book, so throw all your recommendations my way.